Page 13

Thirteen

Monday 8pm

The walk-in storage area was much more like the Kaylan Charlie remembered. As if the door had been opened and everything thrown in. Kaylan had said something like the cleaners come on Wednesday and I’ll tidy up then. Only here no cleaners had been. All Kaylan’s painting equipment: canvases, an easel, sketchbooks, rolls of brushes and boxes of paint were stacked up haphazardly on one side of the space. At some point the top items had slipped, causing a landslide. An open sketchbook lay at the bottom, stuck to the top of a jar of white paint, which had leaked onto the floor.

“I offered to clean it up,” the super said, looking at the mess. “But he said not to bother. Strange guy.”

Murphy picked a couple of sketchbooks from the heap and leafed through them. “He really did study painting.”

“For a few months,” Charlie said, “until his nature caught up with him.”

“What’d he do?” The super wanted to know.

“He helped his painting tutor murder his friend,” Charlie said.

“Shit,” the super said. “That’s harsh.”

Murphy had moved on to the couple of boxes stacked on the other side of the unit. He pulled a handful of papers out of the top one, and began to read. Wordlessly he passed the papers to Charlie as he finished them.

All were printouts from news websites: The Guardian, CNN, Apple News, the BBC, the Washington Post, the North Wales Courier and Post, The Daily Mail. They appeared to have been selected at random, and stuffed into the box.

Gay Cop in Murder Trial

Art Professor Sentenced

Trump Will Win: Dwyer

US Citizen Arrested after Shooting at Art School

My Son Is Innocent!

Charlie read the last one with raised eyebrows, and increasing interest.

“This one quotes Kaylan’s mother. I thought she lived in Chicago,” Charlie said. “When I spoke to her on the phone last year, I’m sure that’s where she was. But this implies she’s in New York.”

“People move,” Murphy replied. “Kaylan’s father was shot here anyway.”

Charlie whipped his head round to stare at Murphy. “What?”

Murphy handed him a printout.

Cybersecurity Expert Shot Dead

Roger Sully, founder of Sully Cybersecurity was fatally shot yesterday. Witnesses say Mr Sully was about to enter a parking garage on Sixth Avenue when he was shot at close range from a moving car. The perpetrator was driving a black SUV…

“Still think this is about Orianna?” Charlie asked.

* * *

It was fully dark when they left Kaylan’s block. Charlie immediately rang Orianna.

“No change. The doctors are making us all leave, even Tom’s folks. I’ll be back at the flat in about an hour. Dunno where the senior Pennants are going, and to be honest, I don’t care.” Orianna sounded exhausted, and suddenly, all Charlie wanted to do was sleep. But Murphy pulled him toward the open door of a small bar, with a retro sign advertising pizza and beer. He must have sensed Charlie’s reluctance because he said, “One beer, that’s all.”

They took stools by the bar and Murphy ordered a beer Charlie had never heard of. It came in bottles and was okay, no better, though Murphy seemed to like it. The barman poured miniature pretzels into a bowl and pushed them over. Charlie leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head on his hand.

“What’s next?” Murphy asked.

Charlie shook his head. “I need to see Tom, but Ori says they’ve all been chucked out. You could lend me your ID. They’d let me in with that.”

“At this time of night, I doubt they’d let me in.”

Charlie thought he was probably right dammit. And anyway, the horrible nurse from last night would remember him.

“I live with Tom, I’m on holiday with him, I’m his emergency contact and they let his parents in and send me away.”

“It sucks. So, find out who shot him.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Charlie said.

Murphy shrugged. “I still think you’re wrong, but I’m not so convinced that I won’t help. What do you need?”

“Kaylan’s mother’s address.” Charlie looked at Murphy over the top of his beer bottle. “I’m not your colleague. You don’t know me from Adam.”

“I can tell you’re a cop. Probably a good one. Come on, I’ll give you a lift back.”

For some reason the compliment set more alarm bells ringing in Charlie’s mind than Murphy’s earlier dismissals.

* * *

When they got back to the flat, Murphy drove off, promising to text Charlie with Mrs Sully’s address. The alarm bells rang again. Police officers did not help civilians with information.

Orianna was in bed, despite the early hour, but she called to him. He sat beside her as she told him about Tom.

“They think there is some kind of infection, so they’re bombarding him with antibiotics,” she said, not able to conceal her worry. “His vile parents were only in Boston, visiting some friends which is how they got here so quickly. And I’ve had a row with Ann because she gave the hospital their contact details which she did not have to do.”

Charlie was puzzled. What had Ann got to do with it? His confusion must have shown.

“Tom’s insurance is paid for by the art college. They rang the college and got Ann because she’s his secretary, and she bloody looked up his file and told the hospital how to get hold of the Pennants instead of saying you were his next of kin. For fuck’s sake. They haven’t seen Tom for years, but Verity is doing the whole of course I would come to be with my darling son routine. I hate her. If Tom were awake, he’d tell her to get stuffed.”

Sometime in the middle of a sleepless night, Charlie got a text from Murphy with Sabrina Sully’s address.